Life in the Fast Lane
by Menthol Pixie
Summary: Sam spends his sixteenth birthday sleeping off a seizure that leaves him with a concussion and a mean black eye.


**Life In The Fast Lane**

**A/N: Another epileptic!Sam story. Hope you all enjoy.**

XXX

Sam spends his sixteenth birthday sleeping off a seizure that leaves him with a concussion and a mean black eye.

It's like the people who built the motel rooms bathroom didn't even consider the possibility that one day a 5'4 epileptic teenager might some day stay there and might need some room to flail around.

Wankers.

It sucks that Sam misses his birthday, and it really sucks because Dean has an awesome present for him and he has to wait a couple of extra days while the kid recovers before he can give it to him.

Dean hates being patient, but at least he gets to torment Sam by not giving anything away.

So Sam spends a bunch of time in bed, sleeping and moaning about how his head hurts and his face hurts and his muscles hurt, poor fucking kid, and Dean hovers and makes him cheese on toast and teases him and gives him his pillow because for some reason he really fucking loves the kid.

John blusters around and makes Sam soup, and Sam eats it even though it's mushroom and why can't Dad ever remember that Sam doesn't like mushroom? But he makes an effort and plays poker with them, and aside from the massive grand mal seizure Sam had on the morning of his actual birthday, it's a pretty sweet couple of days.

Dean's itching to give Sam his surprise though, so once Sam's seeing straight and stopped bitching about being sore, Dean packs him in the Impala and holds out a blindfold.

"Really? A blindfold?" Sam says sceptically.

Dean grins. "Indulge me. You're gonna love this."

Sam rolls his eyes but grins back, this kid in an oversized hoodie with a shiner and a medical alert bracelet around him wrist. Sam really is going to love this. Dean can't wait to see his face.

So Sam allows him to tie the blindfold – a folded up Metallica bandanna Dean nicked a couple years back – around his head. Dean makes sure it's loose enough to not press against Sam's bruises, and then they're off.

Sam plays with his bracelet, twisting it round and round on his wrist. He's still tired, Dean can tell by the way he's slumped in his seat, but he's fine really or maybe they just have a messed up definition of fine. The kid was keen to come along anyway because Sammy's tough.

He gets skittish after big seizures though, and this was a big one.

Sam picks at the bandanna. "What if I get all photosensitive and taking the blindfold off makes me go nuts?"

Dean glances across the bench seat at him. "You're not photosensitive, don't be an idiot." If Sam's gonna be ridiculous, Dean gets to call him names. He figured out a few years ago that telling Sam that he's a moron is by far the most effective way to get him to stop worrying.

Sam makes a face beneath the blindfold. "I'm Idiopathic. Maybe they just haven't figured it out yet."

"Well, they got the 'idio' part right. They missed out the 't' though."

"Dean."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Sam, if you were photosensitive, we'd know."

He wishes Sam were photosensitive actually. It sounds like it would be easier from what he's read. Just avoid flashing lights and shit. But Idiopathic Epilepsy means that no one knows crap about why Sam has seizures. He just does. It's just _Sam_.

And it means that there's a bunch of stuff that the kid has to miss out on. Dean can't make up for all of it, but he's pretty sure that Sam's not gonna care about the rest when he finds out Dean's plan.

"Are there gonna be people where we're going?" Sam asks.

"Stop fishing for clues. You'll find out soon enough." Dean intends to leave it at that but Sam's forehead creases in this worried little frown and it doesn't go away. People freak Sam out sometimes, or rather, the possibility of having a fit in front of people freaks Sam out. You'd think he'd be used to it by now but Sam just gets more self-conscious as he ages. Maybe it's a teenager thing, or maybe it's a Sam thing.

"Sam."

Sam turns his blindfold-covered face towards him.

"It'll just be you and me. No one else."

Sam breaks out into one of those smiles at that makes Dean want to rip out his own brain to replace Sam's faulty one. "Awesome.

XXX

"I can't hear any other cars," Sam says a while later.

"There are no other cars," Dean replies simply.

Sam huffs but his mouth twitches into a smile. "Does Dad know where you're taking me?"

"Hell no," Dean replies emphatically. He hadn't even tried running his plan past John for fear of it being forbidden. "I told him we're going to see a movie."

"So it's something he wouldn't approve of." The revelation seems to make Sam more excited. Yeah, Dean taught this kid well.

"Yeah, so keep your mouth shut about it."

"About what?" Sam asks innocently.

Dean laughs. "You think I'd let it slip that easy? We'll be there in a minute, so you can just wait."

Sam is quiet for a while, fiddling with his medical bracelet. He's thinking, which isn't good when he has that look on his face.

"Dad never lets me do anything fun," he says finally, not sulking, just fact.

Dean glances sideways at him. "'Cause you're always doing the horizontal flail." He tries for humour.

Sam folds his arms over his chest. "He acts like he's gonna find something and I can do all the fun stuff after he's cured me. What if he doesn't find anything ever?"

Dean pulls the Impala to a smooth stop and takes the keys from the ignition. This will be far enough. "Then you'll just have to be grateful that you have an awesome big brother. You can take the blindfold off now."

Sam grabs it with both hands and pulls it over his head, eagerly looking out the Impala's windscreen. His face creases with confusion.

"A desert?" he asks, raising an eyebrow as he turns to Dean.

This is the moment Dean's been waiting for. He raises his hand, keys dangling from his fist, and fuck is it awesome to see Sammy's bruised face freaking light up.

"You're not serious?" he demands, wide eyes staring at the keys. "Holy shit!"

See, epilepsy and driving don't mix, and Dean knows that it's a big deal to Sam, even though he hasn't said anything. The kid's always known that he wouldn't be able to get a license but it hasn't stopped him from watching Dean or Dad at the wheel, longing and disappointment written all over his face.

"Do you think I'd drive all the way out here if I wasn't serious?"

Sam reaches for the keys but stops. He looks up at Dean anxiously. "You're not, not worried... What if I have a seizure?"

Dean shrugs carelessly. "So what if you do?" He gestures to the wide expanse of emptiness. "It's all dirt. There's nothing for you to hit, and I'll be right here the whole time. I'm not going to let anything bad happen."

That's all the convincing Sam needs. They swap seats without getting out of the car. Sam just clambers over him and settles himself in the drivers seat, pushing back the too-long sleeves of his hoodie. "What do I do?"

Dean talks him through everything and manages to hide his winces as Sam bunny-hops his first few attempts. He gets the hang of it quickly though. Sammy always does. Freaky smart, that kid.

It's as brilliant as Dean thought it would be. He watches Sam drive them round in circles in the desert, revels in the smile on Sam's face and the excitement in his eyes, urges him to go faster and 'whoop!'s right along with him as they speed over the sand.

So maybe his brother's barely recovered from his last fit, maybe he's bruised and tired and maybe they'll never find a cure for the disorder that shapes Sam's life, but at least Dean can give the kid this, and he's not going to stop looking until Sam can have this every day of his life.

**END**


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